


Take some time to Honk a Hotdog

by TheMissluluB



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: 2nd Person, Diemen POV, Featuring Matchmaker Marvus and his Marvelous Matchmaking Skills!, Hopeless Romantics, Hotdog Vendor Diemen, Other, We still don't know who Who Is This is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMissluluB/pseuds/TheMissluluB
Summary: You don’t know who they are, but they’re always there.Until they’re not.





	Take some time to Honk a Hotdog

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about this ship ONE TIME and now I CAN'T FUCKING STOP-
> 
> I wrote this at 12am. It's just sappy fluff.
> 
> Future note, for readers from the FUTURE: This was written before hiveswap act 2 was released, therefore may be OOC when you are reading it, and due to the unnamed mysterious purpleblooded troll not having a name, they're being listed under 'Who Is This? (Hiveswap)' for the time being. I also don't know their gender, so used gender neutral pronouns. 
> 
> EDIT: This was also written before Friendsim was even announced, never mind released. Therefore, again, may be OOC.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fluffiest fluff you've ever read! (Seriously, this outranks the Picnics In The Night Gamquius fic I wrote, and _that_ was teeth rotting. This is just 'you're teeth're gonna fall the fuck out over this fluffy shit.'

You don’t know who they are. You know who _you_ are, though. You’re a rustblood, and an oblong meat product vendor. You’re nobody special. You try your best to be kind and welcoming to all of your customers, no matter how abusive they get. It sucks to be the lowest of the low; you get used to the verbal abuse, though.

But there was a night where one troll in particular caught your eye.

A small purpleblood.

They were around a group of other purplebloods, all of which were taller than them. They looked as though they were the youngest troll in the group. Not that it was any of your business.

You had been preparing another batch of oblong meat product when they came over to your stall. They bought 3, and ate them all in one go.

“Woah!!!” You said at the time, “That’s so cool!!!”

Their smile seemed brighter than the moons. They honked a single time, and ran off back towards the group. The one with the hat ruffled their hair, and the group walked away. You thought you would never see them again.

Ever since then, you would see them around your stall. There was never much conversation between you both; you were always too busy to have a proper conversation. It felt like their presence stopped any highbloods preparing to yell at you for not cooking their oblong meat products fast enough. Those were the nicer nights.

The better nights were when you were able to see their dopey, overexcitable grin. The best nights were when you were the cause of it.

The times you _do_ converse between them are few and far between. You told them you can eat 18 oblong meat products in 12 seconds, and their reaction was priceless. You proved it, too, despite the inevitable indigestion afterwards. They enjoyed it though. That’s the main thing.

They don’t talk much. When they _do_ , it’s something important. Anything else is a variation of ‘honk’. You’re beginning to distinguish what each honk means, and you think they like that.

You figured out that they’re the same age as you are, which is 5.

They make you think about things you’ve never really thought about. Like, why _do_ stars exist? Why do _we_ exist?

“Sometimes I wonder like, are we really just some coincidence of fate, or like… you know,” You say to them on another night, when you pack up just in time to leave before day-break.

They shrug, “Honk?” _If there’s messiahs?_

“Yeah, that.” You agree, nodding, “It’s interesting to think about sometimes. When you look up and realise how small you are compared to the whole entirely of Paradox Space.”

“Mmhm.” They mumble, nodding. “Honk.” _Being tiny to people on the same_ planet _doesn’t really help matters either._ You chuckle at that, and they smile. Got that translation right, then. You finish packing away in a peaceful silence, with them helping occasionally. When you look up, they’re fidgeting.

“Something up?” You ask.

They shake their head. You’re about to ask… something, but it falls out of your mind entirely when they thrust an item into your arms and dart away in a rush. You look down at what they gave you.

A… noisemaker-horn?

Huh. They must like you, then. You don’t think more about it, but keep the horn in your sylladex. It’s a token of your friendship, you think.

The next few nights, they don’t show up at your stall. They didn't return the nights after that too. Highbloods take glee in this and yell at you for failing in their custom. You apologise, because you have to.

Half a sweep passes after that incident, and there’s still no sign of them. Not only that, things just seemed to go downhill for you and your shop from there.

You’re lying on the floor of your respiteblock as you decide whether or not you should quit being a oblong meat product vendor. You would be basically throwing out your _livelihood,_ but honestly it’s not like you’re getting much business lately. Hardly any, in fact.

Maybe you should switch locations.

… That’s a good idea. But _where???_

You troogle some locations near you, and find you need a permit for all of the locations that are available; all of which are for olive and above. You sigh.

You’ll try setting up shop one last time. For luck, you let yourself think.

Of course, you’re a little late in arriving, so a little late in setting up. Not like it matters anyway, considering you… wait.

You have a customer, holy fuck.

It’s a purpleblood that you vaguely recognise, but can’t place from where.

“What’chu sell here, then?” He asks.

“Oblong meat product, sir! Fresh off the grill!” You respond, hoping you sound chipper enough for him to buy something.

“And that’s it?”

“Uhh… yeah?” You say, “What else would a oblong meat product vendor sell?” It’s the only thing you’re _allowed_ to sell.

“Hmm. No blood-pushers, then?” He asks.

“Huh?” You reply, confused. He sighs.

“I’ll take a hot dog.”

“What’s a hot dog?”

He places both hands into his face. “Oblong meat product. I’ll take one.” It’s muffled, but! Yes! A buyer!!

You give him the best oblong meat product you’ve ever made.

He decides to make conversation, and since business is… well, shit, you converse with him. For some reason, the topic ends up on noisemaker-horns. You blame purplebloods.

“I dunno, I think they’re pretty great, is all.” He says.

“They’re a weird shape, but they’re fascinating in their own way, I guess,” You respond, “How many do you have?”

“At _least_ 20\. Do you have any?”

“N-,” You stop yourself, and think. You _do_ have one! Your friend gave you one! They may have disappeared off the face of the planet, but they’re still your friend… you think. You hope they’re just busy and not… well, dead. “Oh! My purpleblood friend gave me one,” You reach into your sylladex and successfully get it out to show him.

“Your… _friend_ gave you that?” He asks. He seems like he… like, knows something. But you don’t know what, and are too afraid to ask.

You nod anyway.

“Yeah! I assumed it was a token of our friendship, but then I think they got really busy. I haven’t seen them for a long while.” You lament. He nods sagely.

“Hey, can a brother be asking a motherfuckin’ question?”

“Sure!”

“You tried honking that noise?”

“Have I tried what?”

“Making the noisemaker make noise.”

“Like pressing it?”

“Yeah.”

You shake your head. “No. I didn’t think about doing that.”

For the second time, he places his head into his hands. Only this time, he unleashes a heavy sigh along with it, and a mumble which sounds suspiciously like ‘I fucking knew it, you’re both hopeless’. He looks up at you. “Why don’t you try making it make noise right now?”

You think about it, and nod. “Okay!”

You honk the horn.

You really shouldn’t have had the open part angled straight into your face, as a rolled up sheet of paper beans you directly on the forehead. Ow. There’s confetti (???) everywhere. How and why is there confetti.

You pick up the paper.

_ <3? honk :o) _

Oh no. Your face flushes.

_(Meet me here if you do? If you want?? Idk bro I’m not great at this.)_

**_Oh no._ **

You don’t realise you’re saying ‘aaaaaaaaa’ until the purpleblood interrupts you midway through.

“Don’t you worry none, brother,”

You look up at him. “How can I _not.”_

“You’re as hopelessly clueless as they are.”

That makes you smile.

You decide to close up early and follow the purpleblood. You know this is against _all_ better judgement, but you can’t really… _help_ it. It’s alluring.

It’s a quiet spot that he brings you to. There’s a log and a view of the stars. It’s beautiful. You have no idea where you are. A figure sits next to you on the log.

“Small motherfuckers, aren’t we?” You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Compared to Paradox Space, or compared to most of the populace of Alternia?” You mumble. They laugh so hard they fall off the log. It’s infectious, honestly.

“Honk.” _Back to serious._ “Do. Like. You maybe.” They fumble around broken sentences, before growling a honk. You don’t know what that honk means yet. But you saw the paper. You missed them a lot.

They make you feel things you haven’t felt before. Like. Quadrant related feelings.

“Yeah. If you’d. Like. I dunno, let me I guess?” You barely drag it out of yourself, not looking at them at all. You’re blushing so hard you probably look like a red fruit.

A glance at them show that they’re pretty much in the same ocean-floating device as you. Their paint is covering the fact that they’re blushing, but you can tell that it’s happening. “S. Honk??” _Seriously??_ That was an incredulous yet completely embarrassed honk. You nod anyway.

“Yeah. As serious as flavour sauces.”

That. That was so bad, what does that even _mean-_

Nope, it’s too late, they’re laughing and you’re laughing too, and it’s only a matter of time until they end up leaning on your shoulder.

“Honk…” _Sorry._

“I’m sorry, too.”

They lean up and press their lips against yours. You reciprocate as best you can, as you’ve. Well. Never kissed anyone before.

After that critical moment, however, they’ve always been by your side. Through thick and thin and through every up and down, they’ve been there, helping you out with your oblong meat product stall.

Ironically, this is also how you ended up selling your products in the travelling circus that they’re in. The purpleblood you had served was the ringleader, and they needed _someone_ to sell refreshments, and it sure as hell can’t be the people doing the acts. So you said you were up for it, and the rest is history.

But, if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that your name is Diemem Xicali, and your life is currently pretty damn great.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! I shore did. Couldn't stop thinking about it until I fucking wrote it. It was 12am. Why do I do this to myself. 
> 
> I warned you all about what happens when I write after 11pm. I warned you. Just look at the Tech Support Series if you don't believe me. 
> 
> After coursework gets submitted today I will hopefully be Back On Track with my fic schedule!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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